A Collection Of Us
by bulletproofsince1999
Summary: A collection of JohnLock smuts. Rated M for Language and sex. Each chapter is an individual story, and they are, in now way, connected to each other, except for the fact that they are JohnLock. :P
1. Chapter 1

What He Is Always Hiding

We were working on our latest case: the man, who (I know) can climb balconies and murder someone in a locked flat, when I asked John, "So, how was it with Sarah, does she have an 'H'?"

John shook his head, rolled his eyes, and said, "Yes." He cleared his throat, "She says I'm dangerous," he looked at the floor to try to say that he was at least a little sad, but I know he isn't.

"You don't seem very sad, John. Did you even like her? Or were you too busy with me?" I ask. I know I'll get a reaction out of him with that.

"I'm not really sad, and what do you mean too busy with you?" he's curious now. Good, as he should have been from the start.

And I also know why he isn't exactly sad. "You want me. Don't you?" I smile at him, but he shakes his head furiously, "Really?" I stand, and he nods. I stand over him and look down, "Because that's not what I see. John?"

He looks up at me, shaking just a little from frustration, "I like you, Sherlock, but not like that."

"Fine. Sure. Believe what you want, but I know." I kicked off my shoes and sat on the couch. "Idiot." Now I'm getting a little frustrated. See, the truth is, I wouldn't mind a serious relationship with John, but it's not like I need him. Ah, who am I kidding? I've needed him ever since I met him; it's just turned into sexual frustration instead of friendship.

He stood and went to the kitchen to do something, (probably just avoid me), then came back, and before sitting on the couch, he hesitated, then gave in. right there, that's how I know there's frustration, and I think it's now sexual. Maybe.

He turned to meet my eyes, his are so pretty. Just the right shade of blue to brighten your day. But his hand also landed on my thigh. I don't think he noticed that. "If I did like you, not saying I do, if I did, how would you know?" oh that really was a stupid question.

I explained to him, "Every time we go somewhere you stare at me. every time I sit on the couch, you either sit in the chair," I nod at the chair in front of us, "and stare at me, or you hesitate to sit by me, but you eventually do. But the hesitation is interesting. Most don't but you do. And you lastly," I look down at his hand, "Well…"

He finally realized what he had done, "Oh! Sorry," he blushed lightly.

"It's ok," I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed it gently. "You're very strange when it comes to me." I was waiting for him to give in and kiss me, but he didn't. "You want to, but you won't. stubborn man, you are."

He seemed confused, "Won't what?"

I leaned in closer, "Kiss me. You know you want to."

He pulled away, "No, I don't. besides, how would you know?" again with asking stupid questions.

"Your eyes say it all, plus I just know." He looked down to try to prevent me from seeing his eyes sparkle. "If you did just happen to kiss me, I wouldn't pull away. I'd be surprised that the stubborn man finally stopped being stubborn, but otherwise…" I shut up. He tensed from the nerves I was striking. I leaned in close again, "John," I whispered on him, "Just do it."

He didn't kiss me, but instead asked, "Why don't you kiss me? if you're so keen on the fact that I want you so badly, why don't you muster the courage to kiss me? hmm?"

I chuckled, "Because I love watching you get frust-" he cut me off by pinning me down and kissing me. this surprised me quite a bit. Not many people can do that. bravo John.

We parted and he apologized, "Sorry, do you want some coffee?" no need to apologize, John. It's ok

"No, but I'll drink the tea you're about to make," I smile up at him. He rolls his eyes and goes to the kitchen. I follow him to the counter where he was washing out a few cups, "John?"

"Yeah."

"Can we skip the tea?" I ask, wrapping my arms around his hips.

"Skip it and get to what?" he asks me.

"You know what," I tell him as I kissed his neck.

"Sherlock," he was about to turn to me and complain, but instead he turned to me kissing him hard on the mouth and grinding our groins together, which was bound to turn him on at least a little bit, because it turned me on.

But in this motion, he was confused, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can. Does there have to be a better reason? Or maybe it's because I love you, have you ever considered that?" I ask him.

"You… I'll have you know that I love you more," he smiled at me.

"Not possible," I lifted him up onto me and he wrapped his legs around my hips while I kissed his neck and left a love mark.

He got down from me and led me to the nearest thing we could lay on, which was the couch, "No. Not here." I took him to my bedroom, "Here," and I practically threw him on the bed.

He looked around, "You really do have your work everywhere, don't you?"

"You should see this place after I'm done with you," I chuckle and kiss from his cheek to his shoulder and remove his shirt. He uses his muscular arms to rip open mine, and it was my favorite too. But I didn't time to complain, because he was already kissing my chest and he licked my nipple and for some reason I liked it.

So I kissed from his chest to his hips where I took his pants off and left another love mark on his hip. He let out a slight moan with that one. Then I started to slide down his red underwear, but he stopped me because he was fondling my pants button. He couldn't get it open.

But then he figured it out and was surprised t what he found sticking out of my underpants. I guess he thought I never got sexually aroused. Usually when I do, I use it for an experiment, but I still get aroused like any other human being does.

I pressed our chests closer which made all of us get even closer and I felt him brush against my leg, and I can tell he hasn't had sexual activity for a while now, because he's lot harder than I am.

Now, he's trying to make things go faster, he practically rips my underwear off of me. but I do the same to him. I'm done with the foreplay and I need him now.

But what surprised me, is that unlike everything else, in this he wanted control. So he put me under himself and lifted my leg to meet his elbow, and that's where his palm stayed: under my knee. And he slipped inside me, using the precum that was already oozing as lubricant.

And let me say this, it felt a lot better than getting off by myself. As he thrust into me multiple times, (making me moan louder), he played with me. but I shifted to where I sat on top of him, but I was still bobbing on him, and with the combination of me being taller than him, and the length of me, each time I came up, he licked my head, and it was sensational. I only wish I could return the favor.

Now with us at our climax, everything was getting faster and the sweat was rolling down off of me and him. I was so dizzy from pleasure that when I did cum, all I remembered was seeing white and yelling John's name. and John moaned mine and he came inside me. which was a little unfair seeing as I made a mess on him and I have nothing from him. Except for the love mark he managed to make on my shaft. I still don't know how he pulled that off. Honestly, I don't really want to know, as long as John enjoyed himself… and me of course.


	2. Chapter 2

An Impossible Suicide

I just stood there, not sure if I should obey or disobey his orders this time. I stood, not knowing what to say as h finished the call, "This is my note," his note? "Goodbye, John." What?!

His voice was shaky as I heard him switch off the cell phone. My mind was screaming at me to run up there and hug him and tell him it would be alright, but my legs decided to be stumps and stay where they were. So, I waited and watched, until he fell.

"Sherlock!" I tried to get to him, but there were citizens and a policeman telling me to go and they wouldn't let me through. I gave up and just kneeled as they took his body and hauled it off to an , ambulance. Lot of good that does now. "No. No, no, no. No!" I mumbled to myself, "He can't be… no, Sherlock!"

Then I tried to run after him, but they stopped me. they told me to go home, and the policeman that was there decided to drive me home. But I couldn't bring myself to walk in.

I sat on the step, and sobbed. Each time I dried my tears and decided I would walk in, I was brought back to the same sobbing routine.

It's just that, he was my best friend, and recently he was the only friend I had. That moment before he fell, played in my mind over and over. And each time, I just stood there. I wish I had run after him. I wish I had told him I was sorry and what my real feelings towards him were and somehow still are.

Then, I started to think, maybe he wasn't dead. that maybe he somehow faked it, and he's going to come back and I will apologize and all will be well. I mean, he is a dick, and it sounds like something he'd do.

So, I faced my biggest fear, I lost Sherlock, and now I have to live with it. And nothing I say will change this. Nothing…

A few days later they had his funeral, and I barely said anything. I couldn't cry anymore, there weren't any left to cry.

After a few more weeks, the hospital I work with told me I should get a therapist or a psychiatrist. I tried, but the psychiatrist only diagnosed me with depression and tried to give me pills for it. And I ended making my therapist cry. That didn't help.

A few more weeks passed and I was able to move back into the flat and I also finally decided to go to his grave and see if I could muster up some words that would make me feel better about this.

But all I could say was, "I don't know why you did this, but I want you to know that I will always love you." and I kneeled there like that for a while, tears couldn't find their way to me, which made me feel even more heartless.

Noon came fast and I decided to go back to Sher- my flat. I grabbed a cab and said our- my address. I hate saying it without him here. The cabbie tried to strike up conversation, but I drowned out his familiar voice, and didn't recognize it until he said, "You know, John, if you don't recognize me in the next five seconds, I'll dump you for real this time."

We stopped in front of our building, "Sherlock!" I slammed the door in the angry manner I had now acquired.

I walked up to the door and looked behind me to see him still there. Then I marched upstairs because this can't be real. He's dead, and this isn't possible.

This is my imagination, I though, as I sat in my chair. I didn't close the front door, in case what I was seeing was real. But by the time Sherlock reached me, I was numb of any feelings I could have had before.

But when Sherlock shut the door and kneeled in front of me, and I saw those bluish grey eyes staring at me, I felt fascination. The colour of his eyes has always made me question him even more. Then I felt the love for him I've had and it warmed me as he grabbed my hands in his, "John. I'm so sorry. I really am." He stood, not letting go of my hands, "And I expected you to punch me."

I stood up, took my coat off and threw it on the floor, "I could you know. I'm pissed at you and it's not like I haven't before."

He slipped out of his coat and it landed on top of mine, "But you won't. you can't." he smiled down at me and grabbed my hands again.

H's right, "I couldn't hurt you, even when you hurt me so much more than I could ever hurt you, I still can't. I don't want you," I started sobbing, "to feel anywhere near what you put me through," I sobbed into his warm chest.

He sighed, and I swear he was crying as well, "I'm sorry. I really am, but I had to do what I had to do. I heard you scream, and that…" his voice broke and I could hear the sobbing, "Broke my heart."

Eventually we settled on the couch and just cried. He kept telling me it was going to be ok and, "I'm here John. I won't leave. I'm here." Of course, I don't believe him, how could i? I know he doesn't expect me to trust him.

"Three months, Sherlock Three-" and my phone rang to interrupt me. it was my therapist trying to help more. But I told her, "Actually, I don't need to see you anymore. I'm fine. Bye."

"John, I don t expect you to trust me, but-" I shushed him, and cuddled into him again. He was so warm. I couldn't help feeling doubt, like this was a dream, but even if it is, I have him and that's what counts.

Then I started thinking about the others, "How are we going to explain this-"

"Already done," he sniffled. "I saved the most emotional for last. Or the best, since I was most eager to see you."

I blushed, "Really? I thought I was boring," I told him.

"Exactly, I need you. we fit like puzzle pieces, you're boring and need adventure, I'm adventurous and I need a little boring cuddling now and then. Perfect. Sort of." That sounded weird, but poetic. Wow.

"No, it is perfect," I tell him.

Eventually, he pulled his knees up to my chest and wrapped his legs around my hips,(not without slipping his shoes off, but still).

I slipped my shoes off and cuddled into him and we got as close to each other as was possible. And we sat for about five minutes, just like that. each breath almost like a whisper, his saying "Kiss me," but I can't.

He pulled my face closer to his, "John," he whispered to my lips.

"Sherlock, I…" I started but never finished. Our lips weren't touching, so this wasn't a kiss, but I almost wish it was.

He kept getting closer, but it wasn't a kiss just yet. Yet…

I pulled away, "John, what-" I shushed him again.

Then I got extremely close back to where we were almost kissing, but this time I had control, "Sherlock I missed you so much, and I love you so much, but this-" I couldn't finish. I didn't know what I could say that would let him still want me.

I tried to pull away, but he yanked me back in, "But what? You don't want me anymore?" he furrowed his brows at me, "John?" he looked concerned, "John, I love you and if you don't think I do then I… I don't know what else I could say or do that would prove to you that I do."

I didn't speak, and my face was left emotionless. He sighed and leaned back, then laid down again and propped his feet up on my lap, "Well, I don't blame you for thinking such a thing. I don't get very emotional when it comes to things like this." Then suddenly he got frustrated, "You're an idiot," and he tried to leave.

But I made him sit down again, "Well, you're right, I don't trust you to love me and honesty, I wouldn't love me either-"

He pressed our foreheads together and interrupted me, "I love you, and I will keep loving you so much that you love yourself."

I blushed, "Try," I tempted him. Then, for some reason I was burning with passion and lust. Not desperately, but enough to get me sexually interested. Maybe it was the fact that Sherlock was finally admitting to me that he loves me, and now I want more than that. I'm weird.

That's when I picked him up and sat him on top of me, and he participated further by making our eyes lock, and God his are beautiful. "So," he got closer, "How does this go again?" I ask him.

His lips were touching mine, not yet a kiss, but damn close, "Like a fairytale, that's how," and for the first time, I felt his lips on mine and it wasn't at all what I expected. It was better. His lips were soft and full against mine and they were so warm I melted into him.

Then I pushed him off me and under me, with my hips in between his long legs. And as I kissed him more, our groins smashed together and it felt strange but good. Our lips were completely consumed by each other's as his parted mine and his tastes were shared with me.

He tasted really sweet, and I wanted a lot more. As I pulled his shirt over his head, I realized how weird his attire was. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which looked good on him, honestly. But still, it was weird. He returned the favor and our shirts floated to the floor and the chair behind us.

I hooked my right hand under his left knee and brought it around myself, and proceeded to kiss from his neck to the button on his jeans. This trick I learned from the ladies, they love it: I unbuttoned his jeans with my teeth and my tongue teased the hips above his underwear.

I slipped his jeans off and they fell to the floor as mine were at my knees, and I slid them off to join Sherlock's on the floor.

He put me under him and slid my boxer down slowly and teased me by licking up one side of my shaft then kissing down the other to meet my abdomen where he left a love mark. I moaned inside of a chuckle. All of my clothes were now on the floor, and I decided Sherlock's should be too.

So I slid his off and while doing so, I took half of him in my mouth, and when I came back off him I hooked my teeth on the head and made him moan. I then left a love mark on his thigh and on the floor were all of our clothes.

The slide of our skin against one another's was enough to arouse me completely, and Sherlock was already all the way there.

Then he did something I wasn't quite expecting, he took control and my legs were wrapped around his hips when he thrust into me. his first moan came out of him and it surprised both of us, it was so loud. But mine was almost as loud, this feels weird, but I like it, strangely.

As each thrust took place, he kissed me and a moan radiated from one of us, each time it was louder and faster. His lips scaled my chest and my nipples and my neck and felt amazing.

My fingers found his hair and tugged on it, which drove him crazy. I didn't think he'd like that. Then again, when I grew my hair out and girls tugged on it, it felt good. This is all so surprising though, I never knew Sherlock as the one to get off with someone, especially me.

We then reached our climax and were already sweating and I could taste it in his kisses, we were both bout to cum and it was going to be amazing. And it was. My vision blurred and all I saw was Sherlock fall limp on me and I felt him panting and a moan escaped me for the last time.

"That… was the… strangest thing… I've ever done," I breathed to Sherlock.

I ruffled his curls as he looked at me, "Yeah," he giggled Wait, he giggled? And in turn I started giggling, and it was weird. Then it just turned to the fact that I couldn't stop smiling. "I love you, John."

I chuckled, "I love you, too Sherlock."


	3. Chapter 3

'Cause He's So Lost

Sherlock and I have been working on some strange cases lately, and he's more stressed than I was when Mary and I got divorced. I still regret that. I know I love danger, but I loved her more, but then there was the fact that I had no idea who she was before and if it would come back to haunt our relationship.

But the worst part is, she left me with the kid. It's not the kid either, it's the fact that what she said was, "I don't want anything to do with you, that means the kid, too." But it sucks, because she has her mum's eyes.

She's four now, which makes me 35 and Sherlock 30, and we both feel old, having a kid around the flat and all. Also, my relationship with him has gotten weird. We fight as though we're married, and then there was last night when I said I loved him, but I was drunk and he was sober, so he disregarded it. But the thing he doesn't know, is that that was the only thing that I said that wasn't slurred or untruthful, but I haven't brought it up yet.

As a matter of fact, I'm waiting until Hailey is asleep, so that if we fight, she won't be around to hear it. Or possibly, is we shag, she won't be awake to hear it. But I doubt it, Sherlock doesn't strike me as the type who would be with a person like me.

Speaking of Hailey, she should be getting up right about now, she has a habit of getting up around 7:30 in the morning, but hey I'm not complaining, because once she gets to school, she'll have to get up that early. So might as well let her develop that habit now.

That's when I heard her feet shuffling in the hallway, I gave her my room and now I sleep on the couch. We talked about moving, but with her, we can't. At least not right now.

She stood in the doorway of the hall, and yawned. "Where's Father?" that's also the other awkward part, she calls me Dad and Sherlock Father. It makes people think we're in a relationship and when we deny it, they always look at us weird.

I stand, "Solving cases. Breakfast?" I ask my little angel. She nods and yawns again, rubbing her green eyes. I love her eyes, yet I hate them at the same time. It hurts, but it's not Hailey's fault. It's no one's fault, honestly. I've gotten over trying to blame Mary for what happened, it was all of our faults, really. Even Sherlock. Actually, probably almost all of his.

If he hadn't come back to London, none of this drama would have risen. But how could he have known? He didn't, so I've forgiven everyone, even myself. It's just the forgetting part that's hard.

I grabbed a box of cereal out of the cupboard that I made Sherlock clean out for the storage of food instead of his science. Then I walk to the one with the bowls and plates that I made him give me the money for. Then there was drawer under it that I made him clean up for the silverware. I smile at the fact that I even made him clear off the table for us. but in the end, he thanked me for the space. So we've all benefitted from the changes I've made to the kitchen.

I set it all down in front of her, "Remember how to make it?" I've been teaching her, because at one point Sherlock will need me and she'll need to be alone. Well, Mrs. Hudson could probably babysit, but I wouldn't want to burden her with my problems. Not that Hailey is a problem.

"I remember, Dad." She poured the cereal and I grab the milk and she does it perfectly by herself.

I ruffle her blond hair, "Good job," she smiles through the bite she took of Lucky Charms. I smile and sit beside her and read the morning paper, like any other normal father, sort of. Any other normal father wouldn't be me, but I try.

That's when we hear the door open and slam shut, then someone moaned in pain, "John!" Sherlock, you fucking idiot.

I walk out to see him covered in blood and holding his shoulder, he moved his hand to look at his wound, but more blood spilled. He fell to the floor leaning on the door, and I ran to tend to him. Then Hailey walks in, "Father?"

"Uh, Hailey can you get the box with the red cross on it under the sink?" I ask her.

She goes to get it and I peel the coat off of him and then his shirt, and the cut looks like it needs stitches, "What the hell were you doing?" I mumble to him.

"Mor- Moriarty," and she walks back in with the first aid kit that I stashed in case something like this happened. "Hey, kiddo," he chokes out.

"Will Father be ok, Dad?" she asks.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," and my instincts kick in and I peel out some gauze and put pressure on his shoulder. I finally stopped him from bleeding and I'm able to clean the blood off him. "It doesn't look as though you'll need stitches, but you still need to be careful. Got it?" he nods and hisses in pin. "I mean it." I finish patching him up and stand over him.

I sigh and pick him up by the waist and sit him in the closest chair, which happened to be mine, "Stay," I demand of him.

I put away the kit and I sit down beside Hailey as she finishes off the marshmallows from her cereal and she throws the bowl and spoon in the sink. Afterwards, she looked at Sherlock, then back at me, her green eyes full of worry, but trust in my judgment.

She hugged Sherlock, "You'll be ok, Father. Daddy says so," he's surprised by this. But he hugs her back.

He sighed, "Yes, I know. Your dad pretty good at what he does. I know," he says while looking at me and smiling weakly.

She pulls off of him and sits on the couch in front of him. She studies him a bit, then grabs the remote and flips the telly on and watches her favorite shows.

I get up and stand behind Sherlock, "You have questions," he says and looks up at me.

I glance at Hailey, but she's too consumed by SpongeBoob to care what we're saying, (and yes, I said SpongeBoob, get over it. I hate the little yellow bastard).

"We're talking about this later," I tell him. He frowns at me, and I raise my eyebrows at him.

He rolls his eyes, "Fine. But could you help me to my bedroom, I need sleep. I haven't slept in 48 hours. Plus the knife wound," he smiles up at me.

I sigh, "Don't be alarmed, but," and I picked him up princess style and carried him back to his bedroom.

Since I basically kicked his experiments out of the kitchen and living room, he now uses his room for them, and it's everywhere. I even have to step over a few things to get him to his bed. He's really light. But I guess that comes with not eating for like three days straight.

I lay him down and sit beside him on the edge of his bed. "Moriarty?"

"Well, his men, but yes," he says to me, his bluish grey eyes shining. "He sent the best ones after me, I'm honored. Oh, John can I tell you something?" I nod, "You have to get down here, I don't want Hailey to maybe hear this," he explains to me.

"What could be so im-" and he cuts me off by grabbing me with his good arm and kissing me. "What was that?"

"A kiss, duh." I frown at him, "You thought I didn't believe you last night. But when you said that you were serious and it wasn't slurred like you knew what you were saying, and you wanted to get it out." Of course, only he could have deduced that.

"But, that was only for me, you couldn't have really wanted to do that. could you?" I ask.

"I'm injured John, would I really strain to do something I didn't want to?" he asks, basically telling me he's wanted to do that. "And it took me an injury to see that."

"We'll talk about this later, I have to watch Hailey and you have to rest," I brushed his hair from his face and get up to leave.

"John? You're going to leave me without another kiss?" I smile and sigh. I lean down over him and kiss him again, lingering on his soft and kind lips.

"Sleep," and I close the door and walk back out to the living room to find Hailey still sitting on the couch. But this time, she's curled up in a ball, laughing at that stupid pink star. But her laugh is more like an evil giggle, and yet it's cute. I smile and was going to sit back in my chair when Mrs. Hudson knocked at the door.

I opened it to see her concerned eyes wide, "Is Sherlock alright? I saw blood and I wanted to know. And by the way, how's that little angel of yours?"

"He's fine, well, he'll be fine. And Hailey's great. Thanks for the concern, though," I tell her.

"Alright, tell him I said get better." And then she marched down the stairs and I closed the door behind her.

Then I noticed that Sherlock's coat was still on the floor, as well as his shirt and scarf. They're all covered in blood. I throw his scarf and shirt in the washer and tell Hailey, "I'll be back in ten minutes, stay here and don't answer the door for anyone."

"Yup. Bye." And I left her on the couch to go to the dry cleaner's just across the street. They moved there a year ago and I like the lady that works there.

I close and lock the door behind me and stomp down the stairs. And out the door and across the street I was in a matter of seconds. I opened the door to see Alice at the counter as always. Almost falling asleep, "Late night?" I ask.

She snorts and sees me, "John, hi."

"Sherlock, again," I say to her and put the coat up on the counter in front of her, trying to not get blood everywhere.

"What is it this time?" she asks. She's had to clean many things off of this coat and it always comes back looking just as it did before.

I sigh, "Blood. And could you possibly stitch it up, too?" I ask. "I'll pay you extra for it if that's needed."

"Hold on," she takes it back behind the curtain to the right and comes back with nothing, "No. I'll fix it for free. You've been here a lot and plus, I know how Sherlock is about the coat. It's ok."

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yeah. It's fine," she says, waving her hand to dismiss it.

"Alright, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow then, or he will. Either one."

"It'll be ready, bye."

I nod and walk back to the flat where Hailey is still on the couch. But she says, "Father wants you. He says it's important."

I roll me eyes and walk back the hallway and open Sherlock's door to find him smiling at me, "John," he says, trying to sit up, but falling back to the pillows.

"What?" I ask, a little annoyed.

"I love you," he says.

This stuns me a little, "Um. That's important?"

"Yes, because love is important, right?" he asks, and I think he's actually unsure. Moron.

"I love you, too," I sigh after my words. "Sleep, Sherlock. If you don't, I'll punch you out." I nod and close the door.

I hear him mumble, "Sleeping is so boring." I rolled my eyes and walked back out to the living room.

A few weeks later, his shoulder is almost completely healed and he's showing Hailey some of his old solved cases. "Eeeww!" I heard, then I heard a little giggle.

I finally got Sherlock to interact with her and do his job, which means he's doing just that. the sizzle of the chicken in the pan blocked out just a little, but I could still hear him talking about his cases and her exclamations. I had to smile, I never knew he could be good at everything. Detective work, battle, wounds, animals, and now kids. What'll be next, me? yeah, no. ever since that day, he hasn't kissed me, and he hasn't done anything else, but flirt a little.

He says sweet things but that's it. It's almost as if he kissed me because he was feeling sorry for himself so he wanted me to feel happy while he suffered. I mean, if anything, he's still my best friend.

I don't know, though. Maybe he's just insecure. Then I have to laugh at myself for thinking such a thing. Sherlock? Insecure? No, not possible.

I finished cooking the meat and filled our plates with the food I've been told is good, but I don't know. I think my cooking is average, you know. It's not bad, but it's not the best.

The next thing I know, I'm going to get Sherlock and he's right behind me, "You're amazing, John. I think I might eat this time. Just for you," he put his hands on my hips and kisses me on the cheek.

"You better," but I still smile and the three plates were on the table when Hailey cam hopping out to the kitchen.

"Thank you, Daddy," she says and sits beside Sherlock while I sit near the sink, so that we've spread out in a perfect triangle.

"You're welcome," I smile at her, and Sherlock smiles at me. but I'm starving and shove food in my mouth before I smile at him. But when I do, he's already eating and I blush and keep smiling. Apparently, when you don't eat for a day, you get hungry, and end up like Sherlock.

And you know, sometimes I swear he's high on something because when he eats, he eats a lot and gains nothing. Bastard. But I'm glad he's finally eating every day. It's only once, but still better than not at all.

Now that that's finished, I told Hailey to go wash up and get ready for bed. It's almost nine and she needs her sleep so she can terrorize more tomorrow. She comes back out with dripping hair and baggy pjs. I smile at her when she says, "Dad? Can you brush my hair?"

She hands me the brush and sits on the floor in front of me, "Yeah." I start from the bottom and work my way up to the top, just like I used to do to Mum's. it works and hurts the least. She stands, "Now get your butt in bed. Or the monsters will come and eat you!" and I chase her back the hallway, "Roar!"

She fakes a scream and laughs as I tickle her tummy. "Oh no, he ate me!" we both laugh.

I tuck her in and kiss her forehead, "Good night, love."

"'Night Daddy," and she almost instantly falls asleep. I close the door softly and bump into Sherlock.

"Jesus! Sherlock!" I said quietly.

"But, John. I need to talk to you," he slid his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder.

I walk out to the living room area and sit on the couch, he followed, "Sherlock, we need to talk."

"Agreed." He huffed and sat beside me, a little closer than usual. "I'm sorry," he says just before I was going to say something.

"For?" I ask, confused.

"Being a burden, and giving mixed signals about us," he looks down at his folded hands in his lap.

"You're not a burden. By the way, has the cut healed yet?" I ask, giving him an excuse to take his shirt off. And he did, to expose a scar and a scratch that was left still to heal.

"Lemme see yours," he demands.

"What?" I ask.

"Let me see yours," he says. Okay, right. When I don't move to remove my shirt, he does it for me. when he sees the scar on my right shoulder. He traces over the bullet hole and the little bit that cracked and scarred that way, "I guess we match now. Don't we?"

"Yeah, I guess so," his is on the right shoulder as well, "Sorta. Guess I'm still alone, though," I let it slip. But it's how I feel. Sherlock doesn't know what half the things I've experienced feel like. Losing my friends, losing my wife, losing the love of my life… all of it, he has no idea.

"No, you're not. You're such a moron. Can't you see? We have a family now. We have each other and a little miracle running around the flat," he chuckles, "I don't know much about this, but I do know one thing, I want us to be even more of a family."

"How do you mean?" I ask. Now I feel weird, I never knew Sherlock could be the sweet poetic type.

"I mean," he takes my hands and makes me stand with him, "I want you to sleep with me tonight. I need warmth and you need to sleep in a real bed, the couch is killing you. and don't think I don't know, John. Because I know."

I think this over, and look up at him, "Okay. You're right, the couch is killing me. And. And…" I don't know how to say it.

"I know," he brought me closer, "I always know," I put my head on his chest and embrace him.

My hands rest on his hips when he makes me look up at him. I stare into his bluish grey eyes and he kissed me. his lips were soft and full against mine, just like last time. Maybe even better, because now he's not hurt. As much.

Then he just picks me up and I wrap myself around him. He slides against the wall of the hall, and feeling for his room door we slide into it and I shut the door with the one free hand that wasn't in his curls.

I slide off of him and bring him down to meet my lips and my tongue swept across his and he let me in, and he tasted so sweet. I wanted more.

He switched our places so that he was hovering over me and I was pinned to the wall. Our lips met again and he started working on the belt that was looped through my jeans. I grabbed his bum and brought us closer and slid my tongue back into his mouth. With my free (right) hand, I pull on his curls.

He undid my belt and didn't bother with taking it out of my pants, instead he just pulled them down and they slid to the floor. I stepped out of them when I grabbed him by the arms and threw him down on the bed. I kiss his neck and reach for the button on his pants. I left a love mark on his shoulder and threw his pants at the wall as if they were my enemy. In this case, they were.

Again, he switches our places and puts me under him, he comes closer, rubbing our groins together and making me suck in air through my teeth when he bites my neck. Then he covers the mark in saliva, and for some reason it feels amazing.

He kissed a trail from my neck and shoulder to my abdomen and leaves a love mark above the band of the boxer briefs I just happened to pick that morning. He looks up at me and slides his finger underneath them and slides them down and eventually off.

He traces circles around my left nipple while he licks the head and takes me into his mouth. My head rolls back and a moan escapes my lips as I grab his curls as if I want him to stop, but I really don't.

When he slips off, he hooks his teeth around the tip and slides back up to nibble my ear. But while he does that I practically rip his underwear off of him and put him back under me.

The slide of our skin makes the tension greater. I trace a circle around his bellybutton and then I line up his shaft, but I do it just light enough that it tickles, but still feels sensational, I would know.

I run circles around the head as I nibble his nipple and he moans lightly, "Sh," I whisper against his chest. Then I lick from in between his pecks to his kips, and my tongue ends up in his mouth. He still tastes sweet.

He growled and switched us again, pulling my left leg up over his arm and his palm lands on the sheets to hold it there, and he takes full advantage, the precum as lubricant. I gasp inside of a moan, "Sh," he whispers to me.

I whine in pleasure and he moans against my neck, which vibrates against my skin and it is sensational. With each thrust that he placed inside me, I moan and once I screamed in pleasure. "Oh, Sherlock," I sighed into his neck.

I bite his shoulder to try to quiet myself, but it barely works. "Ah," he sucks in the air around us through his teeth. "John," he moaned my name to me.

Then I did something that was a little weird, but it still worked. I knocked his arm out of place, which made him flop on top of me, and I dug the heels of my feet into the back of his thighs and he moves to take the last few thrusts, this time making them harder, and faster.

This is when I can tell that his climax was reached. Another thrust and I joined him in this sensationally numbed pain. Then his body gave up and he came inside me. it felt weird, but right.

But I wasn't done yet and he could see this. So he traced my shaft with his finger, then his tongue, but on opposite sides.

Then he took me into his mouth again, and I sigh. Then my body gave up and he swallowed all of me. he traced lines up and down my left thigh and laid beside me. I rolled over and cuddled into him, we were both panting. I kiss him and tell him, "That was…" I couldn't finish. I didn't know what to say.

"Weird but fun?" he tries to put words in my mouth.

"That and… right, you know?"I say.

"I love it when I make you speechless. Then again, I just love you," he says.

I chuckle, "Yeah. I love you, too." I tangled into him and sighed, "You're warm," I tell him.

He smiles and exhales quickly, "You are as well," he admits to me. then he sits up and picks up the blanket off the floor, and throws it over us. I prop myself up on my elbows, and he says, "Come here," he eyes sparkling and his arms welcoming.

I roll over on my left side and cuddle into his chest, consuming the smell of him and the warmest part of us wasn't on the outside anymore. It think I warmed his heart and he made mine beat in rhythm again.

I listened to his and fell asleep knowing he was there, and he loved me. But most importantly, I love him.


	4. Chapter 4

Lost In The Stereo Sound

As John listened to the radio, and the bands that kids listen to lately, he remembered what Sherlock would say about them. but John liked them, some of them anyway. He liked the ones that weren't popular but still famous. Sherlock used to complain that it was obnoxious and it distracted him, but John could remember once when he was working and he was singing one from Mayday Parade. It was _Kids In Love_, to be exact.

He had claimed that it was just stuck in his head from when he heard from somewhere, but John had heard him sing almost all of it. Now he sits in his chair, smiling through tears at memories of Sherlock. But the one thing John never did was walk back the hallway; for anything.

He hated shuffling by Sherlock's door without him crying out some sciency words, and pulling the door open to show John. Or without Sherlock exploding something in the kitchen and apologizing but not really feeling sorry.

_Why did he leave? Oh yeah, because Moriarty threatened to kill all of us. _that's what he loved most about Sherlock. When he said he was a sociopath, John didn't believe him, because now there's proof that if given the circumstances Sherlock would die to keep the people he loved most alive.

John also hated that about himself, he thinks about Sherlock as if he was still here. Even after two years, even after Mary took him in. he doesn't believe Sherlock's still alive, he just thinks about him and then gets even more depressed when he remembers that Sherlock isn't actually here.

And actually, lately it's been getting better. When he thinks about him it doesn't go straight to tears. As a matter of fact, he was able to move back into the flat that Sherlock left. He was going to clean it out, but he liked it the way it was, for some reason.

That's the other thing, John wasn't sure what it was, but every time he thought of Sherlock, he got sad, but there was something else. Almost as if he knew something but wasn't sure what it was. He's been remembering everything, but can't identify what it was.

He finally cleared the tears from his cheeks and mustered the courage to confront Mary, and ask her what he's always been wanting to. Today was the day he would do so. Tonight in fact, at her favorite restaurant and everything.

He pulled out his cell phone and with it, his courage. He'd been with her for thirteen months now and decided he would step it up. So he texted: _Pick you up at 7?- JW. _

He heard it ding a few seconds later: _Sounds lovely.-MM _

It was five now, so he decided he would go for a walk. He hadn't in a while and thought it might be good for him. He grabbed his jacket and walked slowly down the stairs and out the front door of the building. He brought in the evening air through his nose and went right, down the sidewalk.

There weren't many people out right now, but give it a minute and the people from work will be crowding the streets. John had the night shift at the hospital, so he had all day. But with him and sleeping in, he only really had half of the day. But he enjoyed it nonetheless.

It was about fifteen minutes in and someone bumped into him, John apologized, but when the other man did, he swore he heard Sherlock's voice instead. _Great, so not only am I clinically depressed, now I'm going crazy. _ He shook that thought out of his head, and continued walking.

When he did return home, he had fifteen minutes, so decided to just get a cab and go now. It only took ten minutes by car, and with traffic, it would probably be worse.

He mumbled the address to the cabbie and they sped off.

He found Mary waiting outside her home, and showed her to the cab he already had. When he said the address for her favorite restaurant, her eyes lit up, "Oh, John," she kissed him on the cheek and nuzzled into the nape of his neck.

Her heir reminded him of when Sherlock would lean over his shoulder and his curls would tickle his neck. There's that thing again. He felt as though he knew something was there, but he couldn't remember. So he gave up and put his arm around his beloved Mary.

He doesn't know how, but somehow, Mary still gave him butterflies in his stomach. It wasn't as bad as when they first met, but it was still there. _That's why she's perfect. _

It's been a few hours now, and John was finally in the moment he wanted to be in, he was down on one knee in front of Mary with a ring in his hands, "Will you be with me, forever and always?" he finally asked.

Mary did something he didn't expect, she got down on her knees in front of him and said, "On one condition," John looked at her, confused. "That you return the promise and keep it."

John smiled and they laughed and as she kissed him, he slid the ring on her finger. He'd never been so happy in his life. They stood, "What do you say we ditch this joint?" he said, the same way he had when he first met her. That day was full of embarrassment and hilarity.

He threw cash on the table and they walked out onto the streets. Mary leaned into him as they walked.

Then, something happened that John would never forget, and would always regret. Mary tensed and they heard someone running behind them, which was weird because almost no one else was out and the few that were weren't running.

But that's when both of their internal questions were answered and they grabbed Mary by the shoulders, "John!"

He was about to take he, when whoever pulled a gun to her head, "One more step and both of you die. On your knees, lover boy."

He kneeled and when he saw the terror on his fiancée's face, anger bubbled up even more and he clenched his fists. Then it was someone else, "John! Mary!" now he really was going crazy, he swore he heard Sherlock. Someone ran out from the alley beside them and whoever had Mary panicked and she was shot, "Mary!" John and Sherlock (supposedly) yelled.

This murderer seceded and John crawled to meet her. By the time he had gotten there, she was already gone, "Mary," he sobbed into her hair.

Then this mysterious figure bent over both of them, "John, I never… I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen," Sherlock told him. John ignored him, thinking he was just hallucinating.

"Well, it happened! Get away from me, before you die, too. Everyone around me, just keeps dying. I can't… I can't keep…" he couldn't finish any sentence he started. He rocked with her in his arms and sobbed for so long he thought that the other man had left. But he hadn't.

That's when Lestrade and a few others arrived an d tried to take Mary. But he wouldn't let go, "John, you need to let her go," Sherlock told him.

"Shut up, Sherlock! Do you have any idea how this feels?! Any at all?!" John kept her in his arms for as long as he could.

"John, please, we need to get home before something else happens," Sherlock pleaded. "Please, John."

John finally let go, but latched onto Sherlock and buried himself into his detective's chest. Tears stained Sherlock's white shirt and John was shaking as Sherlock wrapped his long arms around his solider. Sherlock looked to Lestrade who nodded and they were gone.

Sherlock picked John up, princess style, but John just wrapped himself around Sherlock completely. It looked as if Sherlock was giving him a piggy back ride, but backwards. It was weird, but John wouldn't let go. "Sherlock, is this a dream? Please tell me I'll wake up in the morning and it'll all be over." John tried, but he knew this wasn't a dream.

"I'm so sorry, John. But this is real, and we need to get home." Sherlock started walking and hailed a cab. But John didn't care. He stayed attached to Sherlock, even when they climbed into the car, he simply shifted and sat on top of him and let tears hit Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock wished he had found a way to stop this from happening, but he had analyzed it in his mind as many times as he could before he ran out there, and there was no way he could have saved Mary.

When they stopped, "Bad break up?" the cabbie asked.

"Worse," Sherlock said as he paid and tried to get John to let go, "Come on, you have to let go so we can go home."

"No! Don't let me go, don't leave me! Sherlock, please!" and the tears continued. Sherlock sighed and picked him up and carried him up the stairs to the flat that John left unchanged.

Once inside the door, Sherlock sat in front of it, and let John cry until there were no tears left for him to cry. "Sherlock?" John finally said, his voice a little shaky still and he sniffled.

"Hum?"

"Why?" John asked. "Why is this happening to me?" John hadn't lifted his head, and didn't want to until he was done grieving. Until his life could be the somewhat normal it never was.

"I don't know. But I do know this," Sherlock said, "I will be there no matter what happens. I'm not leaving again and I never will. I'm yours for as long as you need."

This made John tighten his grip on Sherlock's waist, "How can I believe you? How do I know you won't leave me alone?"

"You don't," _well, that's reassuring,_ "You'll just have to trust me on this," Sherlock said to his short friend.

But what annoyed John the most, was the fact that now that Sherlock was here, he could remember what he was forgetting. And it was the fact that he had always trusted Sherlock for one reason and one reason only, because he loves him. He had tried to avoid it, or treat it as a best friend thing, but he admired Sherlock for his strength and courage and most of all, that he was there for John.

So when Sherlock died, John had lost and forgotten that love and with it that trust. But now that he had Sherlock in his arms, now that he had that familiar tickle on the back of his neck from his detective's curls, he remembered all of it.

It was as if an ocean of emotions had washed over him and he couldn't help but be swept out into the middle of it. He was grieving, and being pissed and at the same time he was loving Sherlock's company. He hated himself for being in love with his best friend, especially when his fiancée just died.

That's also why he regretted what he had done next. Which was wrap his arms around Sherlock's neck and finally look up into those familiar bluish grey eyes. Even in sadness he admired the color, "John, I-" Sherlock tried to get out, but John shushed him.

"Too many apologies and not enough of what I really want," John complained through almost letting more tears fall.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked, making his face closer, and their noses were touching. Sherlock was a little scared of what John might do, but the only emotion he could read was love and possibly a little lust. "John?"

"Nothing. Never mind," _it's wrong in every way possible and I won't let it happen. Not tonight. Especially with what's happened. _But John wanted it so badly. But he decided, "I'm tired and… this can wait until in the morning when I can actually discuss something without being childish and crying like an infant."

"John, it's ok to let emotions slip out once or twice, I have," Sherlock tries to consol his soldier. "And you've been getting better lately and I just," and now it was Sherlock's turn to let tears hit his jacket, "I'm so sorry, I never meant for any of this," he brought John back into the embrace they had held for hours now, and would continue to have for the rest of the night.

They fell asleep like that, too. Jackets keeping them warm as well as each other, and they fell asleep in tears, both of them.

John stirred first, and didn't want to believe what had happened the night before, and when he felt the detective's breathing on his neck, he wanted to believe that it was all just a really bad dream. But when his head lifted to see his detective's mop of curls, he smiled and almost cried again. He smiled because he had his love again, but he almost cried because he also lost a love last night.

Sherlock woke up to John plopping his head down on the burnet's shoulder, "Mm, John?"

"Hi," John said simply. John couldn't contain himself, and kissed the detective on the cheek. He put his forehead to the taller man's, his hair tickling both their faces. Sherlock was about to ruin the moment and speak, when John got frustrated, "Shut up, Sherlock," and instead of placing his hand over his mouth, John had placed his own mouth over the detective's.

Neither of them had thought this through, and Sherlock had no idea what to do. So John left, "I'm going to take a shower," and left back the hallway. He didn't hate it as much now.

Sherlock didn't know what he had done, or why John was so shy about it, but he figured that John's still grieving and just trying to get love in any form, right? But when he kissed him it didn't feel as though he was replacing love. It felt as if it had always been there and was just now being distributed. Either way, John wants Sherlock, he knew that for a fact.

While John was about to step out of the water, he heard someone speaking, and it sounded like a radio, "Damn you!" Sherlock shouted. John laughed quietly. He stopped the water and was getting dressed when he heard music star playing.

He recognized the song, and when he heard the guitar solo, he knew, it was that one band. What was it? Oh yes, Of Mice And Men. And the song? He recognized it as: _You're Not Alone. _One of his

What was Sherlock doing playing what he despised so much? John walked out in jeans and no shirt and no shoes to find that Sherlock had plugged in his IPod? What? But the most surprising part was the fact that when Sherlock turned to meet John, "Dance with me, my brave soldier," he offered his hand.

"What? Are you serious?" John asked, not sure why Sherlock had picked this. Maybe he knew it was John's favorite.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Sherlock had also stripped his shirt, but that's probably because there was tears from last night all over it. Sherlock also wasn't wearing shoes, or socks. He was covered with his blue robe, and grabbed John by the hand and led him to the middle of the living room. "I said, dance with me," and they let the beat of the music consume them.

If anyone else had seen it, John would have denied this moment's existence. But he loved it. The drums and the guitar and the voice of the singers that flowed out of the stereo let John forget everything and let Sherlock lead him into a blissful dance.

When the third song ended, Sherlock bent over John and had his fingers in between his blogger's and their faces were dangerously close. They were breathing heavily and when the next song started, they forgot about the music and were caught in each other's eyes. The blue in theirs were shining and it was beautiful.

Sherlock came closer, "John? I've never said this to anyone, but I think… I love you," he finally admitted to his blond blogger.

"Sherlock, this is so wrong, but I love you, too." They both smiled as John got close enough to press his lips softly to the detective's.

He picked John up and John wrapped his legs around the tall man's hips, they never broke contact and the butterfly kisses became harder and more possessive.

Sherlock tried to get to the couch, but he stepped on something, and this something failed to hold him and it slipped and he fell onto the couch instead. They both laughed and continued kissing each other. Again, they let the notes of each song take over and they didn't think about what they were doing. They just knew that in order for them to be happy, they needed each other.

John regretted it, but like the kisses, he was getting harder, and could feel that Sherlock was as well. And with the way they had fallen, John was on top of his lover and his hips were in between the detective's long legs.

John slipped the rode off of Sherlock's shoulders and he grunted when the contact of their lips was gone. John realized this and brought their lips back to each other. But then he left again and kissed Sherlock's neck, then his shoulder. While John was busy with that, Sherlock traced the scar on his lover's shoulder, and he kissed it, as if he wanted it to be gone.

John got to Sherlock's chest and licked from his nipple to his neck again, and left a love mark. He knew Sherlock would hide it later with that stupid scarf of his.

Then they couldn't take it anymore, and they were completely in sync when they removed each other's pants, then the last piece of cloth that separated them.

Now that they were laying, completely naked and their skin rubbing together, they wanted more. Sherlock sat up, and with him he took John, and he sat on top of him. John was on his knees and Sherlock wrapped his thighs around his soldier, and John decided to take advantage of this position.

When John thrust inside his detective, Sherlock's grip on John's shoulder's became harder and he dug his nails into him to try to keep himself from falling over. Somehow, with this, Sherlock knew to keep moving, but his mind had no idea how he knew, he just did.

With each movement, came a moan or possibly a scream. But the music hid all of this. And it didn't matter what it was, a thrust, a kiss, a lick or a bite, one of them moaned while the other took joy in the fact that they had the power to make each other so happy.

A climax was reached and Sherlock bit into John's shoulder as he came all over John's chest. But that was ok, because John's kiss, turned to a bite when he came in Sherlock. Both of them had drawn blood when they bit each other. They both felt sorry, yet they didn't.

John licked the blood from Sherlock's neck and Sherlock just stared at what he had done to his soldier. Sherlock had stopped bleeding and so had John, but the blood left made Sherlock almost cry. Then he got over it and flopped down on the couch. John had noticed what Sherlock had been staring at.

He shrugged and wiped the blood from his scarred shoulder, not the first he's had to deal with blood on himself. And it sure as hell didn't hurt as much as being shot.

But then he started staring at what Sherlock left on his chest, and he picked up the closest thing he found, which was Sherlock's robe, and wipe it off. Sherlock noticed this and didn't really care.

John lied down on top of his naked burnet and sighed, "That was wrong, yet it felt so good," John admitted.

"Wrong? Oh. No, it's not wrong, you just want to think it is. It's ok, John. All that's happened, it's not your fault, and never was. Besides, I still love you," he consoled his doctor.

He nuzzled into Sherlock and said simply, "whatever you say. But I love you, too." And the music explained the rest…


End file.
